


Bomb

by daisyisawriter91



Series: Don Winchester [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Mob, Arthur Ketch Being an Asshole, Blood and Injury, Bombing, Chaos, Fights, M/M, Mob Boss Henry Winchester, Post-Bombing, Protectiveness, Revenge, Violence, Wild West Rules
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 16:45:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14217429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisyisawriter91/pseuds/daisyisawriter91
Summary: In the aftermath of a bombing, Henry is confronted by another enemy, seeking revenge for Toni Bevell.





	Bomb

Henry only had a moment to react. The counter had reached zero, meaning…  
Henry tackled Balthazar to the floor, using his own body as a shield. Just in time, too. The bomb went off, immediately followed by a ringing in Henry’s ears. Something hit his back, his vision blurred, the ground shook.  
As soon as it had started, it was over. But Henry didn’t believe that for a single second. Bombings didn’t just stop so suddenly.  
Henry rolled off of Balthazar, who was reeling, but looked otherwise unhurt, the biggest relief Henry could have at the moment. Henry looked around, and realized they’d gotten remarkably lucky. No one was hurt, just incredibly rattled, and beginning to panic. Which would certainly lead to injury, without a doubt. Henry had to get Balthazar out of there, especially for the inevitable worse bit.  
Henry pulled Balthazar to his feet, resolutely ignoring his own back pain. He could dwell on it in the comfort of his own home, when both he and Balthazar were safe. First Abaddon, now this?  
Could this be her doing? No. It wasn’t her. This was too flashy, too sloppy, to public. The only thing Abaddon hated more than clumps in her mascara was media coverage. And this was sure to draw just that. Which meant Henry had a very precarious line to walk.  
“Come on.” Henry said, above the ringing. He knew that Balthazar could understand his meaning (or, at least, had a strong sense of self preservation), because he grabbed Henry’s hand and allowed himself to be led along. He looked terrified, and Henry hated it.  
And that was when everything was shot to hell.  
A group of people, all carrying large machine guns, all in impeccable suits. None of them carried Abaddon’s mark, but they carried one Henry recognized. Suddenly, everything made sense. He realized which decision was coming back to haunt him. And there were many possibilities.  
Henry pushed Balthazar to hide behind a knocked-over vendor’s cart. Henry shook his head and strode forward, facing the oncoming group, and the man at the front, who clearly held authority.  
“Ah, so you’re the one who killed Antonia.” He said, posh British accent shining through with every syllable. “I, personally, thank you. She was a thorn in my side. If it was up to me, I would’ve left you alone. I probably would’ve sent you a fruit basket. But, the thorn in my side was also a cog in our organization’s machine. And my boss doesn’t like our machine breaking down.”  
“You bombed an airport full of innocent people. More than that, you caused a scene. Do you not care about being on the news?” Henry demanded, mind still reeling, ears still ringing.  
“We truly don’t. We’re stronger than any government or police. We’re not afraid.” The man replied.  
“This is the royal ‘we’ we’re using.” Henry muttered to himself. “So, what? You’re here to take me out?” He called out. “Fine. But just know, all hell’s gonna be on your tail. Despite what she says about me, my second-in-command will care if I die. And she’ll be worse than a poltergeist.”  
“Oh, I know. That’s why, I don’t want this to be easy. For me or you.” The man said. He dropped his gun. Henry raised an eyebrow at him, utterly shocked at the action. “We’re going to fight, one-on-one. That’s how things are settled in my organization, so it shall be, out here. If you win, this lot goes home. If I win, we kill you and absorb your mob.”  
“You’re a psychopath.” Henry said, shellshocked.  
“That wasn’t up for debate. Do you agree? Or shall we slaughter you where you stand?” The man offered. Henry pulled his well concealed switchblade out of his pocket and readied it.  
“I suppose I don’t have much of a choice.” Henry accepted, resigned. He had to get through this. There was too much to lose, including his life. The man smiled, darkly. He pulled out his own knife, a wicked looking dagger.  
Henry was outgunned, but he wasn’t outmatched. He’d gained more skills in seven years than most did in twenty. If anyone could take this fight, it’d be him.  
“By the way, Don Winchester. People know me as Ketch.” The man said.  
“You act as though I’d care about the name of my attempted murderer.” Henry responded. Ketch barked a laugh.  
“Well said, sir. Well said.”  
The next second, Ketch was running forward. His swing was sloppy, the move of someone who enjoyed fighting too much. Henry was the opposite. He ducked out of the way and brought his fist down on Ketch’s elbow joint. He heard a _crack_. And though it wasn’t satisfying, it meant an area was disabled. One less area to worry about.  
Before Henry could get a slash of his knife in, Ketch stumbled away from him. Henry didn’t move, his guard completely up. He stared at Ketch, not even daring to blink, examining every possible movement that Ketch could make.  
Ketch started at him again, swinging towards Henry’s left. It was a feint. Ketch’s knife just barely missed Henry’s tattoo, instead grazing down his right collar bone. It was a good thing, too. That tattoo meant a lot to him.  
Blood dripped onto his suit. Henry wasn’t surprised, but he didn’t feel the wound. It was either exceedingly shallow, or his adrenaline was on full volume. Probably both, given the circumstances.  
Henry managed to get a slice in, right at Ketch’s left wrist. Blood splattered both of their suits, much more violent than the one from Henry. In the second that Ketch stumbled back, fumbling around for something, Henry slit his throat, slicing directly across the Adam’s apple. It was grizzly work, but needed to be done if Henry was to survive.  
_Bang!_  
Henry’s eyes went wide. In his last seconds of life, Ketch had taken out a tiny pistol and fired directly into Henry’s chest.  
Pain blossomed everywhere in his body, spots began appearing in front of his eyes. He could feel himself losing blood, and it was a surreal feeling. He’d only felt blood loss as much as this once before. Abaddon.  
Henry fell backwards. As if through water, he heard himself land on the ground. He heard people panicking, crying out. It wouldn’t be good for them, he knew. It’d end horribly.  
A particular sound rang out, loud and clear. Balthazar.  
“Henry!”  
Balthazar appeared in Henry’s line of sight, panicked and terrified. Henry hated it.  
“Henry, look at me! Stay awake, Henry!” Balthazar was nearly hysterical, his hands on Henry’s face. Distantly, Henry noted that his hands would be covered in blood from touching Henry. “Stay with me.” Balthazar begged, hyperventilating.  
And as much as Henry wanted to do as he asked, he found he just couldn’t. Oblivion took him prisoner, making the airport and the sounds fade away, and he couldn’t even bring himself to care.


End file.
